


A Beautiful Disaster

by vampiric_mcd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Courtship, Dark Magic, Independent Harry, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Possessive Behavior, Pureblood Culture, Ritual Magic, Rituals, Sirius Black Lives, Weasley Bashing, courting, possessive!voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:17:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampiric_mcd/pseuds/vampiric_mcd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Voldemort changes the war by changing the battle lines. The Dark Lord is far more sane than he has been in several decades, but he remains a Dark Lord worthy of the title. He intends to win the war, starting by adressing the heart of his opposition as well as his own personal ambitions. Harry Potter doesn't quite know if Voldemort intends for him to be a pawn or an opposing king on this new chessboard he has fabricated - or perhaps even the equivalent of a queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Magic and Myth

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:
> 
> \- Don't ask me why, but this just happened. This is also a universe I will sporadically write in I guess. I have no idea where it came from, but I started writing what needed to come out. I can't promise regular updates, I'm sorry to say. 
> 
> \- Lord Voldemort is more sane than before, but he remains a Dark Lord with less concern for morality or value for other people or their lives. He isn't reformed. He's just less willing to alienate anyone who could help him achieve his goals by madly killing and torturing anyone who stands in his way. The intent expressed in this chapter is genuine enough though. This is not a grand scheme to trick anyone.
> 
> \- Sirius didn't die, obviously. 
> 
> \- read at your own peril.

He drowns in his dreams  
An exquisite extreme I know  
He’s as damned as he seems  
And more heaven than a heart could hold  
And if I try to save him  
My whole world could cave in  
It just ain't right  
It just ain't right

Oh and I don't know  
I don't know what he's after  
But he's so beautiful  
Such a beautiful disaster  
And if I could hold on  
Through the tears and the laughter  
Would it be beautiful?  
Or just a beautiful disaster

He's magic and myth  
As strong as what I believe  
A tragedy with  
More damage than a soul should see  
And do I try to change him?  
So hard not to blame him  
Hold on tight

 

Beautiful Disaster – Kelly Clarkson

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

There was darkness and then there was clarity.

Flashes of memories sped by, overwhelmingly clear and yet not. Voldemort’s ruby eyes flew open and he hissed under his breath as he dug his fingers into his throne. Such wealth of information, it made his perspective change. It had changed him. He didn’t know entirely for certain if Harry Potter’s coming of age was the reason behind the flashes of memory or the magical burst of pure power all but crackling through his veins. His body had been remade into an earlier younger version of himself. He stretched his neck in motion and laughed. Awareness burst out from his mindscape and his occlumency shields sorted it all efficiently at a rapid speed. He could feel that his soul had all but been reformed – like cracked porcelain becoming as if it were newly made. His soul felt entirely whole again except for one important last piece. 

And what a surprise it was to realize now that Harry Potter carried the last piece of his soul. An added benefit of having an almost complete soul again was that he was far more sane than he had been in decades. He could feel his mind reforming as well and it was glorious. He had forgotten how it felt to feel – to know – to be. 

He could now see and admit if only to himself that his growing insanity had led to an extremism that would prohibit him from ever ruling the magical world successfully. Muggles were too widespread over the earth to completely eradicate them all – even if meant that the magical world had to stay hidden for fear of persecution and witch trials. Killing off all halfbloods or muggleborns would only ensure that purebloods would become excessively more inbred over time – leading to less powerful magic users and eventually only squibs being born to the great Houses. What good was it to rule over magical Britain, if in time there would be no magical Britain left to rule over. It didn’t mean his ultimate goal had to change though, only his means of achieving it. 

Voldemort smiled. 

And what better way to achieve it than with his soulbound equal at his side. He could feel his bond to Harry Potter humming in his very core. The boy’s magical coming of age had changed his horcrux into a permanent soulbond, probably strengthened by the fact that Lord Voldemort had used the boy’s own blood years earlier in his resurrection ritual. They were bound. The boy was undoubtedly his. And he was nothing if not possessive over anything he considered his own. 

Several disturbing flashes of memory from the boy’s childhood flashed through his mindscape again. He bared his teeth and sent a burst of power to his inner tier of Death Eaters, summoning them to his side. He would woo the boy to his side. And what better way to do so than to present him with gifts. Several Death Eaters apparated into the throne room and he could see and feel their shock at his changed appearance. He didn’t acknowledge their curiosity. He did not need to explain himself. He was still their Lord and Master – and they had sworn fealty to him. Now they would honour it. 

“We are going hunting.” He spoke calmly and stood, wand sliding effortlessly into his hand. 

He would keep the boy’s muggle relatives for last. Send that token of affection to the boy himself when he was at Hogwarts again. He knew the boy was protected in a fidelius’ property and behind ancient wards – probably Black wards – and as such no correspondence could reach him. It would be a far more grand gesture to send his token of peace and affection to the boy where he might actually receive it and besides – he could plunder any of his follower’s children’s minds to see how the boy reacted to his gift. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first several weeks of his seventh year had been peculiar to say the least. Ron and Hermione had all but been avoiding him and snogging in every corner they could find. It wasn’t as if Harry begrudged them their love – but Harry could not help but feel as they were treating him differently. Or perhaps it was just him that had been different. He almost felt more mature. 

Ever since his seventeenth birthday and his magical coming of age, Harry had been restless and prone to speaking his mind more often. Something that clearly didn’t go over too well with several people. Then again others had welcomed the change in him. 

Sirius for example often had a calculated look about him when he looked Harry over and had treated him like the adult he was – though aware of the fact that Harry had missed out on a lot of magical culture – had started to teach him in the Olde ways. It had made Harry more perceptive and aware of his own history, bloodline and culture which was or at least should have been his birth right. 

Dumbledore had become less a grandfather figure to him as Harry could now admit to himself that the man might have had the greater good in mind – yet it didn’t necessarily mean he had Harry’s best interests at heart. And slowly but surely, Harry realised it was not disloyal of him to question Dumbledore or his motives, when Dumbledore had in fact never done anything to receive such loyalty in the first place. Respect was earned and mutual. His admiration of the Headmaster had waned and Harry realised he was just a man. Dumbledore had power but his judgement wasn’t infallible. It had been a sobering thought. 

Hermione and Ron weren’t the only ones to treat him differently. Several of his year or even school mates in general seemed to track his every move and it rattled every instinctual nerve in his body when they did. He often ate in the kitchen’s just to get away from prying eyes. More than one yearmate had also bumped in to him or appeared in every possible location - be it classrooms – lavatories – changing rooms – the great hall – the library and so on. It was maddening. 

 

He luckily found solitude with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood though. And in their presence, it was as if he were mostly left alone. During the last few weeks, Neville had proven to be a valuable friend and ally, as well as teacher in the studies that Sirius had tasked him with. Neville always kept a calm head about him and never seemed to tire of Harry’s questions. If he ever didn’t know the answer to a question, he plainly just told Harry and made suggestions whom to ask or write to. Harry appreciated the candour more than any front. It made him realise that Neville was dependable but conscious of his own limits, something Harry knew he should strive to be as well. 

As he sat down for breakfast in the Great Hall, he did so beside Neville who inclined his head as the young man speared a piece of bacon with his dagger. Harry inclined his head as well and smiled. He instinctively looked around the Great Hall and saw several eyes look away, though his perusal noticed that Snape was looking at him intently and Draco Malfoy was once more obviously staring at him.

Harry sighed. 

Snape had been treating him most peculiarly. He had almost been polite to Harry in Potions, which Harry took in stride and behaved for once with the same measure of decorum as he tried to focus on his studies and complete the potions in every class to the best o his abilities. Snape had given him a consistent fair grade and even when Harry passed him in the hallway, he could feel Snape’s eyes burning in the back of his head. Even if the Potions Master didn’t engage in vitriol or any conversation towards him. Harry felt as if the man contradictorily did want to speak to Harry.

Harry supposed he should be grateful that Snape had buried the proverbial hatchet between them, even if he didn’t quite understand why. He would continue treat the man with a newfound courtesy of sorts and hoped it continued. His Potions grade had never been higher to Hermione’s ire and Harry actually enjoyed going to the class now. It probably also helped that Sirius had been mortified at his lack of basic understanding or preparation of the core classes of Hogwarts such as Potions or Charms and had rectified it with gruelling crash courses in that as well. 

Harry couldn’t understand why this basic information had been kept from him – or why at least it hadn’t been recommended to him in his first Hogwarts letter. Perhaps it was something else to blame Dumbledore or at least the schooling system for. He wondered how many muggleborn or raised students were at a disadvantage not knowing basic magical theory that was necessary to excel in any of the core classes. It boggled the mind really. They couldn’t all be walking libraries like Hermione had been, but if he had known the importance of such knowledge. It should have been left to him if he wanted to absorb and learn it at least.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy huddled up to Zabini and Bulstrode and sighed. The blonde had been one of the people always lurking at the edge of his periphery these last few weeks. If Harry didn’t know better, he would think the blonde had developed a stalkerish crush. He would probably have snapped if it hadn’t been for the fact that Malfoy was apparently happily betrothed to Astoria Greengrass and showered her with gifts and moderate affection appropriate for their courtship as not to impugn on her honour. Harry had seen Malfoy actually bloody another Slytherin who had almost laid hands on Astoria, raging and viciously lashing out as if he had been his namesake incarnate. 

A rustling of feathers and hoots announced the arrival of the morning mail. He dipped his toast into his egg yolk and absentmindedly nibbled on it as he happily watched the flight of several dozens of owls and even the occasional raven or two glide into the Hall. Several birds dropped packages unto each table for the appropriate students and Harry focused on his breakfast. He loved watching the birds but he rarely received any mail, except from Sirius who wrote him thrice a week on designated times. Today was not one of those days. 

“Harry.” Neville’s voice alerted him to something out of the ordinary. Harry frowned as he looked at his friend, the young man’s voice sounded a bit strained.

“Neville?”

Neville wasn’t looking at him though but straight ahead, Harry followed his gaze and his eyes shot up as he saw a black swan watching him. His eyes dropped to the bird’s feet and saw a green ribbon with gold thread wrapped in a bow around one of its webbed feet. Attached to the other was an obviously shrunken chest. Around its neck was a delicate parchment roll, with his name in blood red letters.

Harry felt faint. This was a courtship offer. And in common courtesy he would have to accept the letter, the ribbon and the gift before he could even consider denying it. To not accept it and consider it fairly would impugn his honour and magic – as such a thing could only be made in good faith and with no ill intent towards the receipient of the courtship gift. Sirius had drilled it into his head that if anyone sent such a thing to him as he was now of age – he would have to consider it though he was perfectly capable of not accepting the courtship if he felt the person who offered for Harry was not to be a joyful or at least honourable match. He had to read the letter in the location where he received it though, as well as gaze upon the gift and let others glimpse at it so they could see the value his courter placed in him. 

“You have to take the letter, Harry.” Neville spoke calmly.

“I know.” Harry spoke, mind whirring. Who on earth wanted to truly court him though. That tradition spoke of more than fame chasers or infatuated school children. A sincere act of magic had to go into this ritual.

He reached for the parchment and the ribbon. The chest enlarged itself on the table, plates, cups and condiments magically clearing aside to make way.

“Neville, as my godbrother, will you be my witness and second in this ritual.” He asked almost automatically, his mind racing.

“It would be my honour. The House of Longbottom will stand beside the House of Potter, as always.” Neville responded, his eyes not leaving the parchment. 

“Harry…” Neville paused. “The seal…”

Harry frowned. He didn’t recognize it immediately and frowned when Neville’s mouth pinched in a nearly bloodless line. The boy couldn’t say more, Harry knew, as it wasn’t proper to name the suitor before Harry could read it for himself. He unrolled the parchment and scanned the letter quickly, feeling himself pale as he recognized parselscript. 

_My dearest Hadrian James Potter Black Peverell,  
Lord of the House of Potter, Heir Apparent of the House of Black, Heir Regnant of the House of Peverell,_

_I sincerely hope you find this first courtship gift to your liking. I took great caution in the preparation of it so it would be a most fitting token of my sincere affection and protection. I will send the following gifts as is proper, as well as my proposal for our potential future together. Rest assured, I will treasure you and your desires, as befitting a most esteemed consort of the House of Slytherin._

_Thomas Marvolo Riddle Gaunt Slytherin,_

_Lord of the House of Slytherin, Lord of the House of Gaunt  
_

 

“Neville.” Harry’s voice was shy of breaking.

“You have to open the chest, Harry.” Neville spoke, pale but determined.

“I…” Harry hesitated briefly but stood, Neville followed. Harry instinctively ran his open hand over the chest and watched as it glowed for a moment. He hissed in Parseltongue. “Open.” 

The chest opened slowly and magically. The lid rising as it glowed from within. Harry stared for a moment. Neville grasped his underarm but Harry shook his head. He didn’t know how to feel. If he was shocked, horrified or something entirely else. He opened his mouth but was lost for words.

A shrill scream jerked his attention to Hermione who had apparently walked up beside him as well as a greenish looking Ron, who promptly threw up. Harry couldn’t really blame him. Several others in their vicinity looked at the contents of the chest. Suddenly, Pandemonium erupted around Harry. Neville just grasped his underarm more tightly. Harry was grateful for the obvious and physical support and returned his attention to the contents of the chest. 

Three severed heads were magically preserved within, agony etched unto their features in everlasting death, presented on a bed of red velvet with black ribbons around their necks. 

The ritual of the first courtship gift entailed proof that the suitor would protect the courted from all that would harm or cause them fear. In that light, the heads of perceived enemies who had harmed or at the very least caused him grief – would technically fulfil that first ritual courtship gift Harry supposed almost apathetically. 

It certainly ensured that he would never have to fear being left to the tender mercies of the Dursleys ever again.


	2. Ã Pack of Lions Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The immediate repercussions of the courtship gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Still can't promise any kind of regular updating. This has a mind of its own. Enjoy!

Oh the bond is deeper than skin  
The kind of club that we're in  
The kind of love that we give  
Oh ever since the dawn of mankind  
We all belong to a tribe  
It's good to know this one's mine

Let's start a riot tonight  
A pack of lions tonight  
In this world, he who stops, won't get anything he wants  
Play like the top one percent  
Til nothing's left to be spent

Fire – Gavin Degraw

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Neville was a strong force beside him. One Harry gladly accepted and drew strength from. His god brother was usually shy and reserved, and years of relatives finding fault with him had undermined his self-confidence to a degree that frankly hurt Harry’s heart to contemplate. But ever since they had finally drawn together, he liked to think that he helped bolster Neville’s self-worth issues and his belief in himself that he was a powerful wizard – because Neville was. 

Harry could sometimes quite literally taste it in the air. Now, Neville was exuding a feast of flavours to his magical senses. Because there was one thing that you never did, and that was to mess with anyone that Neville held dear. No matter Harry’s own self-worth issues, this stunning display meant he could not deny that he most assuredly fell into that category. While the sandy haired boy outwardly looked calm and collected, Harry could feel his anger and disgust thrumming alongside their god brother bond. It was a heady feeling to perceive such roaring protectiveness towards him, such a willingness to defend him – to attack if there was anything that threatened him. And Harry definitely needed that to ground himself on.

“Enough.” Neville spoke harshly. The ranting and accusing voices around them fell silent in shock at the powerful command, infused with what was undoubtedly magical layers of persuasion and determination.

“You cannot have the letter. You cannot have the chest. You cannot have the heads. You cannot even have the Merlin damned ribbon.” He looked at the people in the room. Several aurors, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones, all the Head of Hogwarts Houses, Dumbledore, Minister Cornelius Fudge and several lackeys as well as various school governors such as Lucius Malfoy looked at him in varying degrees of shocked stupefaction or well disguised neutrality.

“Now listen here, young man.” Fudge blustered in reply. However, Neville’s magic asserted itself with a deafening crack followed by all the portraits and knickknacks in the headmaster’s office ominously rattling as a result. Two school governors jumped, and one auror drew his wand in reflex before putting it down after a quelling glare from Amelia Bones and surprisingly Professor Snape as well as Lucius Malfoy.

“You will address me as Lord Longbottom.” Neville spoke smoothly after a moment. “And this is a courting matter, something held sacred and governed by the laws of Lady Magic herself.”

He looked sideways to Harry who just nodded once, perfectly at ease at having Neville speak for him in this matter as his Witness. His eyes flicked momentarily back to the chest he knew held the heads of his apparently deceased muggle family. Harry still wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

Yes you do. An insidious inner voice whispered. Harry shook his head to clear it from his mind. 

“As a Peer and a witness to my godbrother in blood –“ Neville ignored the gasp of several people. “- and magic, we are proceeding as we would in any other courtship ritual. As such, neither a courting gift, letter nor adornment can be seized or asked to be relinquished.” He looked them all in the eye one by one. “Ever.”

Harry put his hand on Neville arm and squeezed once. Neville inclined his head, showing they were in agreement for what followed.

“My god brother has already sworn upon his magic and life that he had nothing to do with the deaths of the Dursleys, nor did he ever give any inclination to anyone that their deaths would be favourable to him in any way. He neither asked for them to be killed or wished for anyone to do so.” Neville checked Harry, who just nodded. 

“However, a selection of Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries or aurors may come to Hogwarts as part of the Sacred Viewing, after which, they will be permitted to magically examine the chest and the heads without disturbing them after swearing they will uphold to the traditions and boundaries, as is our right by Magic.”

Neville coughed, giving them all a moment to process what he had said. Fudge looked all but apoplectic as well as an undoubtedly unhealthy shade of puce. Harry quirked a small smile, causing Snape to raise an eyebrow and McGonagall to huff. Whether in outrage or amusement, Harry couldn’t quite figure out. Neville then serenely continued speaking. 

“Since only trusted members of the person being courted or his family can be invited to take part in a Sacred Viewing, we will forward the names that are acceptable to either or both of us to take part in this ritual. Per tradition, we will hold the Sacred Viewing this Friday evening in our chambers.”

“Chambers? My dear boy, you are both housed in the dormitories. This is an inconvenience that cannot be asked of your year mates.” Dumbledore spoke in a slightly scolding manner. Harry gripped Neville’s arm again, reigning the young man in as Harry felt the irritation spike in Neville.

“You are correct, Headmaster.” Harry spoke for the first time since they had entered the Headmaster’s office, drawing everyone’s attention. He ignored the pleased gleam in Dumbledore’s eyes. The old man was in for a rude awakening. Harry couldn’t bring himself to care really. 

“As both my god brother and myself are Peers of the Realm, we will be claiming our familial suites at Hogwarts. That way, we will hinder no one with the stages of this courtship, or any of our other responsibilities. Since Hogwarts will undoubtedly oblige, we will have the chambers twinned and connected so we can be held accountable to each other and the demands of the courtship ritual.”

“My dear boy, I think you do not understand how the Peerage works – understandable as you were not raised amongst us but-“

Harry held a hand up, causing Dumbledore to fall silent. In an obvious show of wandless magic, several ornate rings made themselves visible on Harry’s hand. Dumbledore looked as visibly stunned as Harry had ever seen him. He smiled ironically. Several other people drew in audible breaths.

“I’m afraid you will have to refer to me as Lord Potter, Headmaster, when we are not discussing my education. That may of course change after I’ve claimed my Peverell Lordship in the next Wizengamot meeting. At this moment I cannot say how Lady Magic will manifest my titles. Not that it really matters, as it might change again when I claim the Black lordship unless another heir for the House of Black is appointed.” Harry closed his eyes for a moment and signed a rune across his chest for protection. He ignored the muttering of several people at his action. “May the Lord Black live a long and healthy life though.”  
He opened his eyes.  
“In all other matters, I wish to have it made clear that I have not claimed allegiance or affinity with anyone or any House except for a select few individuals - as you may have guessed by now, Lord Neville Longbottom and Dowager Matron Augusta of the House of Longbottom are two of those few trusted individuals.”  
After those sentiments being declared formally, it went unsaid that Harry did in fact understand quite a bit about the Peerage, his own Lordship as well as his due rights. He stood in one fluent motion. Several house elves with the Potter crest appeared like a row of fierce little soldiers ready to wage war. Neville stood as well, followed by several of his own house elves.

“Ready our chambers as we previously discussed.” Harry spoke decisively.

The house elves popped away silently. Harry moved forward and produced his wand. He tapped every courting items which shrunk and stacked themselves accordingly. After which, Harry brought his wand to the Potter Lordship ring. Another ornate medium sized chest appeared out of it and Harry placed the items in it, before tapping his ring again. It glowed briefly as it absorbed the chest, leaving the table before him blank. 

Harry looked to Neville, whose eyes were fierce. For a moment, he could see the head of a snarling bear superimposed on his god brother’s, as the totem of the House of Longbottom made its allegiance and support known to him. As if Harry could have had any doubt after the last hour. He inclined his head in mutual respect.

“We have much to do.”

“Yes, you are quite correct Harry.” His god brother turned to face the rest of the room. “If you would excuse us.” Side by side they left a silent room behind them.

Once they left, the people remaining looked towards each other and surprisingly it was McGonagall who spoke dryly.

“Well, this will prove to be interesting.”

Dumbledore shot her a wounded look, meant to chastise. She just snorted, surprising everyone else in the room. Severus and Lucius shot each other an indecipherable look.

“I told you they were the worst kind of muggles, Albus. And this situation is largely of your making.” She inclined her head, others repaid her in kind though obviously still shocked by the development of the Gryffindor Head of House taking on this cavalier attitude.

“Minerva –“

“I don’t want to hear it, Albus. You should have remembered that it is often a tangled web you weave when you practice to deceive. “ 

You’ve made your bed, Albus, probably more far reaching than anyone can phantom. She thought. Now you will have to lie in it. 

She only hoped he had not doomed them all. 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


End file.
